


Some Day

by cheekiestcheeky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekiestcheeky/pseuds/cheekiestcheeky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis starts hearing all about this out and open member in another boy band, and it hurts, he thinks, more than it should. But maybe that's all down to him - maybe he chose to stay silent when he should have been speaking up. Some day, though, Harry thinks they'll figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Day

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is. Jaymi (Union J) just gives me a lot of feels - especially _what if_ Louis feels, which really suck. And, well, this is the result. Thrown together this evening, so pardon if the quality's not the best.

The first time it happens, Louis shakes it off. 

He's heard all the talk, the rumors that this boy in one of the X-Factor groups actually has a boyfriend. He doesn't think much of it; it's just talk, isn't it? People speculated about he and Harry all through X-Factor, but nothing ever came of that, not at the time. Not publicly, that is.

So Louis ignores this talk about a possibly gay boy bander, because what else is new?

**

The second time it happens, Louis can't ignore it - because the rumors are true.

Jaymi is the boy's name, and he's been out for a while, been in a relationship for three years. _Three_ years. 

And it hurts, a bit, deep down in Louis' chest because here's this boy his age, starting out in his rising fame already out and open, and people are being supportive. The world isn't stopping because some boy is gay, and his band still has fans and people are still voting for them, and it hurts, a bit, because Louis can't. 

He _can't_. 

But Jaymi can, and that hurts, just a bit.

**

The third time it happens, Louis is just flipping through a magazine his sisters had picked up. 

It's February, and he's home for a couple days before rejoining the rest of the group. His sisters are still at school, his mum's off at work and Stan's not free until later that afternoon, so Louis makes the most of his afternoon by lazing about on the sofa and resolving not to move again until absolutely necessary. He's got an entire series of TOWIE waiting for him and a far too large bowl of sugary cereal in his lap, anyway. 

But at a slow point later on, just a while before his sisters should start coming in, his eyes fall to the coffee table in front of the couch. The surface is littered with mail and a couple books, and some of those trashy teen mags Felicite and Lottie (shamefully) still pick up every now and then are thrown into the mix. Luckily, his face isn't on the front of this one (that's still weird to him - seeing himself on magazine covers), but there's a familiar face there - one he's seen a bit online, thrown about in conversation, that unintentionally mocks his subconscious. 

Before he can think twice about it, Louis is picking up the magazine and thumbing through the pages until he lands on the feature story. And, of course, there Jaymi is, smiling eyes and carefree demeanor shining up at him from the glossy page. Louis tries not to glare at the printed face, but then his eyes scan the handful of Q&A's beneath it, and his stomach drops. 

_My partner_

_Boyfriend_

_Be honest. And make your own rules_

It's all mentioned in his answers like he barely even had to think about his response before letting it go. Didn't have to worry about the words that might escape. And, Louis realizes with a sinking heart, Jaymi probably _didn't_ have to think about his response, word his answers carefully, worry that he might say something he's not allowed to. 

Because Jaymi is allowed, and that thought alone has Louis flipping shut the magazine and throwing it back to the table with such force that it misses entirely, landing on the floor with a taunting echo. 

**

The fourth time it happens, Louis doesn't want to be alone. 

It's right at the end of the UK leg of their tour, and Louis' home again, unwinding from their weeks on the road. It's nice, being home, getting a bit of time to finally relax. That is, until a Saturday night when he's just clicking through the Twitter app on his phone. It's a habit he has, just mindlessly clicking through random tweets and profiles to see what people are saying. Sometimes it leads to amusing finds, but other times - like this time - it leaves Louis feeling too cold and too empty. 

He's not even sure how it happens, but he ends up on Union J's profile by chance, and then he's clicking through to their Instagram page and his insides are flip-flopping with something like envy and guilt. 

And it's such a stupid thing, he thinks, that sends him off into these bouts of self-deprecation. 

It's just a picture of Jaymi and his boyfriend, that's all it is. It's _just_ a bloody picture, he tries to reason. But it's a public photo - a very public photo, shared on the band's main account, and that's the thing. His stomach clenches because Jaymi can do things like this - take a photo with his boyfriend and share it with the world without thinking twice about it, and that hurts.

It hurts in Louis' chest, and it hurts more than just a bit, because he has to wonder what that life might feel like. He wonders _what if_ in circles as he clicks off of the photo and then brings it back up, wondering what if things were different, what if he hadn't agreed to stay quiet, what if he had been brave enough to come out, what if he had the courage to let himself be honest. It's a dangerous sort of circle, one that leaves him hollow. 

He hates this feeling - this thickness in his throat, making it hard to swallow, hard to breathe, and this paralyzing guilt that creeps over him, turning him cold from his head to the tips of his toes.

And it hurts.

Usually he can turn it off with a shake of the head, cover it with smile, but this night it's different. It hurts more than usual, it sends his thoughts off on more tangled tangents, makes him feel more alone than he’s ever felt before. There are tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he hits the home button on his phone and swipes over and into a different app, tapping away blindly until his phone is dialing a familiar number, a comforting name lighting up his screen. 

It rings three times, and Louis' about to end the call when a voice greets him with an emphatic laugh and a confused, "Lou?" 

Louis swallows; it feels too constricted, too tight, but he manages: "Yeah, uh, Harry. Hi." 

"Hi..."

There are voices in the background on the other end - too loud voices and drunken giggles. Louis feels his heart sink. "Look, Haz," he shakes his head even though the younger boy can't see it, "sorry, didn't mean to disturb you. I'll, um, I'll just talk to you later, yeah?" 

"No, Lou, wait," Harry says before Louis can even pull the phone away from his ear. There's a crash on the other end and more laughter, but then it turns muffled, sounding distant when Harry speaks again. "What's up? What happened?" 

Louis lets out a sigh. "It's nothing," he replies at first, too gentle, he knows, so he repeats it. "Nothing happened. Go back to your friends, Harry, it's fine. Really." 

"They're fine without me," Harry says, sounds like he wordlessly adds _but you're not_. "What's wrong, Lou?"

Louis sighs again, shakes his head. "I don't know, I just..." he trails off, listens to what sounds like gravel being walked on, the familiar jingle of keys, a car door opening and closing. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding once there's silence on the other end of the line, just quiet, muted exhales that sound all too familiar. When he speaks again, his voice is soft, breaking as he whispers, "Do you think I should have told them no, when—when we started?" 

There's a heavier exhale on Harry's end, but it's not a sigh, just a loaded breath, an exhale of wrong words. He can imagine the younger boy scratching at the bridge of his nose with his pinky, his brow contracted as he thinks up a response. "You had your reasons, Louis," is all Harry says, minutes later, an empty reminder. 

Louis bites his lip, hard enough to give another reason for the tears blurring his vision. "Right," he agrees, shakes his head at himself. "No, right, yeah, I did. I _do_." 

"Lou," Harry sighs, and it might sound exasperated or annoyed to anyone else, but Louis knows Harry isn't. Harry's never annoyed with Louis, never impatient, but he's allowed to be a little frustrated. Concerned. Which is exactly how his words come out when he drops his voice a beat later, "Babe, what's this about?" 

_Nothing_ is Louis' first thought because he doesn't want Harry to worry, doesn't want the boy to give up his night for a conversation like this. But what comes out is, "You know Jaymi?" And he cringes as he says it because this is just so _pathetic_. 

"Hensley?" Harry wonders, confused. "He that one bloke in Union J?" 

"Mm," Louis hums and falls silent for a moment, fisting a hand into his sheets. He holds it tight for a moment, glaring at it, before letting it go with a breath of anxious nerves. "He and his boyfriend, they're," Louis starts and then stops, frowning. "They're just happy, you know? And they get to be happy, Harry. They get to be happy and they get to post pics of the two of them online and they get to _talk_ about each other in public." And Louis thinks that's a really stupid thing to be jealous of - talking about each other - but it's something he misses, getting to talk about Harry without restraint. He misses a lot of things, really.

He inhales deeply before continuing, "They don't have to be careful and they don't have to worry about getting caught because they're _allowed_ to, and it's—" He cuts off to a sigh, finishes in a mutter, "God, it's not fair, and that sounds so, so _stupid_ , I know, I'm being stupid—"

"No, you're not." 

"Yes, I am," Louis insists, because he is. This is all so stupid, no matter how heavy his chest may feel. 

"No, you're not, Lou," Harry tells him again, and the sound of an engine starting up cuts into the conversation. 

Louis lets a minute pass before asking, "Where are you going?" 

"Where I'm needed," Harry replies like it's simple, and Louis can hear the smile gracing the younger boy's lips. 

But Louis shakes his head. "Harry, it's already going on two. Don't." 

"So sleep for a bit, yeah? Get some rest and then we'll be happy, alright?" 

The line goes dead before Louis can argue. 

*

It's just a quarter after four in the morning when Louis stirs to his mattress buzzing. It's a consistent, incessant vibration rumbling throughout his bed until he picks up his phone, glowing in the blankets. He blinks at it, bleary-eyed as he unlocks the most recent text on the screen. 

_*knock knock* ;)_

It takes a moment for Louis' mind to catch up, and then he's stumbling out of bed and padding down the stairs to the front door. Sure enough, standing on the other side in just a pair of too-tight jeans and a dark tee-shirt is Harry. He's grinning sheepishly, a rare sight but maybe something Louis should have expected at four in the morning while back home. 

Saying anything feels like it would be too loud, so Louis can't help himself when he takes a few steps forward to hug the younger boy in greeting. And it's cold out, the stoop cold beneath his bare feet, but he doesn't care because he's got Harry on his doorstep - something that's definitely not allowed, not after the sun is up.

But it's four a.m. and now, now Louis' not feeling so empty as he wraps his arms snug around Harry's waist and burrows into the curve of his neck. 

He doesn't feel so hollow as a set of strong arms fold around his shoulders and hold him close, even as he tells Harry, "I'm so sorry." And it's a loaded apology, one full of years of hiding and years of guilt and years of lies, but Harry just holds him tighter. 

"Inside, yeah?" Harry whispers into Louis' hair, lips pursing against the crown of his head. 

Louis nods, pulling away just enough for the two of them to enter the house and head back upstairs. They find each other again on the bed, buried beneath the sheets with tangled limbs and unanswered questions, words silent against skin but loud in their minds. 

They don’t speak for a long while. It’s not needed—they’ve never needed words to comfort each other. They only ever need each other, the closeness, the brush of skin against skin to remind the other that _I’m right here; I’m not going anywhere_. 

But, "Please don't be sorry," Harry says eventually, sighing the words against Louis' pulse point. 

"I should have been stronger, though," Louis responds because he should have. "I shouldn't have agreed to hide, Harry." 

The younger boy shakes his head. "I don't mind, you know that." 

"But _I_ mind," Louis grits out, and his words almost break the night, shaking the silence. He feels that icy wave of guilt washing through him again, and he steadies himself with his hands fanned flat across Harry's shoulder blades, fingers curling in for support. He breathes in HarryHarryHarry and exhales a string of regrets.

"I mind," he repeats, "and I'm sorry I've been staying quiet like a fucking coward for all these years, because I see Jaymi and I see how happy he is and the support they still have and I can't help but think... What if I had spoken up?" 

Harry's shaking his head as Louis finishes and he's pulling away, pulling back until their eyes can meet in the darkness. He holds Louis’ gaze, silent for a moment, and then, "Things would be different," he says, but he's not smiling. His brow is hard, features stoic as he speaks, "Maybe they'd be better, but maybe not, we don't know. Maybe you'd be happier, but maybe we wouldn't, but you know what?" 

Louis shakes his head, no. 

One of Harry's hands snakes up Louis' neck, ghosting across the skin until he's cradling the older boy's head in his large hand. He brushes his thumb across Louis' cheek before meeting his eyes again. "Sometimes it takes a lot more courage to stay quiet than it does to speak up," he says, his voice as soft as his eyes. "Only a strong person can hide who he really is." 

"But the bravest person isn't afraid to show himself to the entire world," Louis whispers back, voice sounding broken. 

Harry doesn't respond to that. He just brushes away one of the tears that breaks free, smears it away before it can tumble from Louis' cheek. "I think you're pretty brave," he says instead, whispers it like a secret, lips barely moving. 

The older boy just shakes his head, because he's not brave. He chose to hide when he should have been showing himself whole, let himself fall silent when he should have been shouting. If that's bravery, he doesn't want to know what cowardice looks like. 

Though a coward he might think himself, he keeps going. "I don't want to hide anymore," he declares after a moment, words too gentle to be brave. "I want us to be happy, like they are, out there."

A smile pulls at the younger boy's lips, hushed in the corners, swollen in his dimple. "Happiness takes a lot of bravery, you know," Harry tells him, a note of teasing in his voice as his teeth gleam in the moonlight. 

Louis ignores him. 

"But you know we can't, not yet," Harry adds, much, much quieter, his smile fading with each word.

"I know," Louis echoes, because he _knows_ , more than anyone he knows. "But I want... I want us to be allowed to smile at each other without someone shutting everything down. I want to be allowed to take a picture of us and Tweet it just because we can, Harry. I want us to be allowed to be happy." 

Harry's smiling at him softly as he breaks off, and it's a sadder kind of smile, one that Louis might have mistook for upset if it weren't for the glimmer of hope shining in the younger boy's eye.

"Some day," is all Harry says as he draws Louis closer once again, nuzzling into his shoulder and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. It's warm against Louis' skin, bleeding a promise into his pores, sealing it with a silent vow.

And that’s the last time it happens; the last time he’s drowned with those questions, plagued with those regrets and possibilities. 

The last time it happens, Louis isn't alone. 

Rather, Louis starts to fill up, little by little. He doesn't feel so alone, so cold, so torn up by all of the what-ifs with this boy beside him. And it might not be tomorrow that he gets that happiness and support that Jaymi already has. It might not be next week or next month or even next year, but some day, he knows, some day he will. 

And with Harry by his side, carrying him through when he can't seem to carry himself any further, he doesn't mind having to wait. He doesn't mind waiting at all, so he breathes his agreement against Harry's lips, soft and gentle with the night, "Some day we will."


End file.
